a McCloud. She gave a deep, surrendered sigh.
“You’re going to need some supplies,” Hildabrand smiled.
Lythina burst into a grin, “thank you for believing in me. I need your support more than you can imagine.”
“I know, dear. That’s why I’ll help the best I can.”
The night passed with more mugs of tea and laughter as Hildabrand and Lythina hammered out the details of how she was going to travel across the sea. They decided that the best course of action was to pack enough food and fresh water to last a few days. By Hildabrand’s conjecture, the light wasn’t more than a day’s journey out, so Lythina would have enough stores to find it, or not, and still return with ample supplies. Afterward, Hildabrand calculated the moon cycles, concluding that the next full moon would be in two days. This would give them enough time to prepare and gather all of the necessary provisions.
Hildabrand also shared with her granddaughter some of the most remarkable, intimate moments of Marcus and Kari’s relationship. The innkeeper answered all of Lythina’s questions as fast as the young lady thought them up. And for a long while, the two women sat in front of that exquisite mantle bathed in the warmth of the fire, enjoying each other’s presence. Ultimately, the night began to sink in, and a yawn passed between them.
“Bedtime,” the little innkeeper spoke, “we have a big day tomorrow.”
Lythina looked at her with admiration. “Grandmother, thank you so much for everything. Truly, I owe you.”
“You owe me absolutely nothing, love,” Hildabrand responded. “We are so very blessed to have met, I think. And that is enough for me!”
Lythina and Hildabrand exchanged their hearts that night. After she helped her grandmother clean the dishes and settle down the fire, Lythina bathed herself and went to her room. She laid her weapons at the foot of the bed, reveling in the security she felt at this odd little Inn; not for a great while had she had the opportunity to rest without a blade at her side.
Her thoughts raced as she tried to sort out all the events of the night. Her visit with the Oracle was, at least, profitable, as she was given a gift for nothing in return. But the prophecy of her friends dying was more than a little disturbing.
“And who is Mathias?” she whispered again. Dismissing the question, she sighed and remembered her long talk with Hildabr… her grandmother, wow, and all those stories about her parents. Tonight, she decided, was dedicated to her family.
As she slipped into bed, her mind began to quiet down, and as soon as her head nestled into the pillow, she was fast asleep. While her unconsciousness swam in the depths of the Universe, Lythina’s mind clouded over with a white, swirling mist. Images of fire, and people on a hillside, and a blindingly bright light flashed inside the fog before darkness swept her quietly into the night.
3. The King’s Decree
At the northern most edge of Hyrendell Island, upon a mountainous plateau that looked as if eons of erosion had cast and carved the crest of a hill into an earthen throne, Hyrendell Castle was built from the foundation of the Earth itself. Commissioned approximately 500 years after the island was discovered, it has been fortified and renovated with every succeeding ruler since. Ageless Earthstone was excavated from a quarry near the Eastern rim of the island to construct its timeless walls, and it has been reinforced over the ages with new stone and wrought iron bracing. And to accommodate the growing majesty of the castle’s inhabitants, new rooms and turrets have been built up and over its ever-increasing floor plan.
At the forefront of the castle, the gatehouse carries a cross-hatched portcullis with tempered spikes sharp enough to pierce an anvil, and serves as the entrance to the outer and inner baileys. From there, expanding outward in a jagged circle of Earthstone and iron, the towering curtain walls grew to outline the castle grounds. The grand scale and evolving architecture of Hyrendell Castle was second to nothing else on the Island.
Growing in the shadows around the castle’s massive footprint is Hyrendell Village. Soon after the original stronghold had finished construction, a protective parapet wall was built around a large section of the castle’s adjoining, southern-facing acreage. This would provide a barrier within which the commoners would live and work, develop and thrive, to sustain the kingdom.
In the earliest years of Hyrendell’s lifetime, the people were ruled and protected by many noble and virtuous kings, all descendent from an ancient lineage of knights. The kingdom existed in a dream of prosperity, blossoming into a center of commerce for the castle and its village, eventually expanding outward to sporadic merchant posts on the outlying edges of the Island. Travelers from afar would traverse the Ardelantian Ocean until they reached the waters directly surrounding Hyrendell Island. Known as the Sea of Gennia, sealads and merchants alike would dock at one of four merchant outposts on the Island to trade and purchase goods. Yet, even with Hyrendell’s magnificence, nothing could stop the progression of time, and the seemingly endless age of prosperity concluded.
Invaders from distant lands lay siege to the castle when they heard about the Island’s success. While many kings squashed the invaders’ offensive quite efficiently, it was from the inside where most of the damage would stem. Approximately 1700 years after Hyrendell was established, greed and corruption took hold.
Nobility lost to the lust for power when one of the greatest kings of history was murdered in the night. Rumors spread that the assassination was ordered by the king’s mendacious Privy Consul, yet no evidence ever surfaced to prove it. And as the king had no known heir, the Consul voted the reigning Lord High Steward to the throne, marking the beginning of a monarchical tyranny for a land whose brightest days had vanished like a thief in the night.
Thus, time and envy has caused the once prosperous and enchanting kingdom of Hyrendell to descend into a nightmare of domination and oppression. Now, the solid contours of the cold granite throne gave no discernable comfort to the man who sat unwillingly within. As such, Nielius Evacus, the current king of a corrupted Hyrendell, played his role as the leader of Men until a moment would surface where he could escape his pitiful existence.
His aged, battle-worn fingers wrapped over the armrests of the throne in an effort to support his aching figure as he attempted to make himself appear to belong there. His sapphire eyes gazed out over the Main Hall as his clean shaven, but hardened features portrayed quite well his annoyance at protocol. In his mind, Nielius was yearning for the sanctuary of his study; to flee from the wretched, joyful company of his Privy Consul and soldiers as they supped inside the Hall to the only place that dulled the unbearable silence of his thoughts. He hardly responded to his men’s efforts to spark up conversation, and he absently waved off another round of casket ale.
Although the highest position in Hyrendell’s hierarchy was secured for him by his lineage, Nielius had reluctantly grown to the aesthetic obligations of kingship; he was well aware that his presence was mandated at such events. Yet the continual compulsory appearances had long been grating his nerves. He believed that a king should not need an excuse to depart from his company. His Consul’s insistence that such appearances were necessary for the continued morale of the people was legitimate, though, regardless of the his own confidence in pervasive tyranny. Perhaps, if he was successful at feinting fatigue, he could create an illusion suitable enough for him to slip away from the commotion and chatter. He balled up a fist to rest a temple against it, and closed his eyes with an audible sigh.
The heated conversation around him seemed to grow stronger, or maybe it was just him focusing on the drunken banter of the soldiers, but his rouse must have been working. Within minutes, the men stopped coming to him with questions and stories, leaving him to further
